


The Teasing Game

by Alara J Rogers (AlaraJRogers)



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: M/M, Porn Battle 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-15
Updated: 2009-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-11 14:03:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlaraJRogers/pseuds/Alara%20J%20Rogers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Picard/Q established relationship. Watching Picard's current mission is boring Q to tears. He suggests a game to spice things up. By now Picard has figured out that the way to handle Q's games is to play along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Teasing Game

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle 8: prompt, "Picard/Q, teasing."

The Enterprise was patrolling the edges of Cardassian space, looking for Cardassian or Dominion warships. Q happened to know they weren't going to find any, but Picard would be deeply irritated with him if he said so, and would keep patrolling despite the information, because he considered using Q's powers for his benefit to be cheating at some sort of game, or something. Honestly, Q had fallen in love with him in part for his ethics and his stubbornness and his refusal to look at Q's powers in terms of what they could do for him, but there was such a thing as taking it too far. Picard was tense and jumpy from days of patrolling without finding anything, and a tense, jumpy Picard wasn't much fun to talk to, let alone anything else. Though he _was_ easy to tease.

And then the brilliant idea occurred to Q of teasing him in a way that would make him less miserable about being tense, at least, and considerably more fun to spend time with once he went off shift. There were ground rules, and chief among them was what Q mockingly called the Picard Prime Directive – Q could not materialize while Picard was on duty unless Picard asked. They couldn't be together in any traditional manner until this evening, but tradition was highly overrated in Q's opinion.

So as Picard sat in his chair on the bridge, during a few minutes while Troi was actually doing her job and counseling crew members, Q made him feel as if his ear and neck were being kissed sensuously. Picard jumped like he'd been stung by a bug, and Riker asked, "Are you all right, sir?"

"Quite fine, Number One." Picard stood and straightened his uniform. "You have the bridge. I'll be in my Ready Room."

Once the door closed behind him, he said, "Q. What the devil are you playing at?"

Q made Picard's screen chime at him. He walked around to his desk, where he encountered large text written on his screen, as if Q were writing on his screen with a pen, by hand.

[What do you think I'm doing? You're so tense, _mon capitaine._ It can't be good for your blood pressure.]

"In case you didn't notice, we are patrolling in a war zone," Picard said, his voice clipped and tight. "I would hardly be doing my job if I were _not_ tense. I must remain on alert as long as I'm on duty."

[Jean-Luc, since we began this rather friendlier phase of our relationship, have I ever interfered in anything you seriously needed to do? Anything important?]

"No, I suppose not, but..." He trailed off. "You're telling me that we won't encounter anything any time soon?"

[You hate when I tell you things that impact your job. You've always got to find out for yourself. So I'm not telling you that. I'm telling you that if I tease you a bit, like this--] --and when he saw that Picard's eyes had reached that part of the text, he gave Picard the feeling of a hand running up his bare leg from knee to thigh and almost to his groin, despite the fact that in reality Picard's leg was clothed in pants-- [--it won't end up distracting you from any red alert situations. I promise.]

"That's rather a technicality, isn't it, Q?" Picard said, but his tone was slightly friendlier, more open.

[They say the devil is in the details, Jean-Luc, and I can be quite devilish when I choose.] Another nibbling kiss against Picard's ear. [ By your rules, I can't manifest materially until you're off duty, but I don't need to be physical to tease you.]

"I cannot be on the bridge, in front of my crew, with you attempting to sexually arouse me," Picard snapped.

[Attempting?]

"All right, then, I cannot have you arousing me in front of my crew. Especially Counselor Troi."

[Oh, but you're _so_ disciplined, Picard. So good at hiding your true emotions. I'm sure that you can keep it a secret.] He drew a picture of a Cheshire grin on the screen. [I tell you what. Let's make it a game. I will tease you and do my best to make you lose control, and you hide it from the crew. If you succeed, and make it to tonight without them noticing anything... you get to do anything with me you want.]

"Even if I told you to go away?"

[That would be a terrible waste of what will undoubtedly by then be a very attractive hard-on, but yes, I'll do it. Anything you want.] There was nothing Picard would ask of him that would violate Q law or Q's own sense of ethics. There _were_ things he could ask for that Q wouldn't like – exercises in boredom and frustration, mild physical pain, sending Q away – but the game would have no spice without the potential of real consequences. [I won't read your mind, so you can come up with anything you want and I won't know ahead of time what you plan.]

"And if I do lose control, and a member of my crew realizes that I'm aroused?" The blood in his face rose to the surface, making him visibly redden, as he said it, while his nervous system flared with adrenaline and excitement. Q smiled to himself.

[Then the same. I get to do anything I want to _you._]

"And if I tell you that I choose not to play?"

[I'll sulk. Outrageously. I'll manifest in your quarters just so you can see me sulking. And I'll be very annoying about it.]

That got Picard to smile slightly. "All right, then, I accept your challenge, with parameters."

[ And those are?]

"Firstly, that the forfeit cannot be anything you know I won't consent to."

[Done.]

"Secondly, that I win if you break any of our existing rules."

[Of course.]

"Thirdly, that my winning consists of my crew never noticing that I am _aroused_, not that they never notice any reaction whatsoever. I'm not particularly concerned when they see me react to minor irritations; it's specifically arousal we're contesting over."

[Done. And I will block Troi so she doesn't sense anything at all from you, and doesn't realize that she can't sense you.]

"Without otherwise interfering in her powers?"

[Of course. I'm not a mere Douwd, I'm a Q.]

"And you may not give me any sensation that you couldn't give with a physical body. No stroking the nerve cluster in my solar plexus, for example."

[I really like doing that. It's delicious to see you experience sensations no human can ordinarily have.]

"Well, if you win, you can do such things to me tonight. But not during the challenge. And only one sensation at a time – it would be literally impossible for me not to react if you did your trick with the several dozen mouths, for instance."

[Very well, only one discrete sensation at a time and it will be limited to what a human could do to you. Anything else?]

"You may only tease me for a minute at a time, and you must give me half an hour between sensations to cool down."

[No, that's far too easy. I'll consent to the minute at a time, but this has to be a challenge. Five minutes between sensations.]

"Ten minutes."

[All right, I'll accept that. Anything else?]

"You cannot trigger sensations that would normally take more than a minute to get to. If you make me feel as if I'm about to orgasm, I would hardly be able to hide that. You can do what a human body could do within the time frame a human body could do it."

[What if I can get you to orgasm within a minute?]

"Then you win, obviously, but you do not get to take shortcuts. You can only make me react the way I would reasonably react if a human body were performing the action within that length of time."

[Do you want me to write all this down in some sort of rulebook? Maybe codify all this into a regulations manual, for reference?]

"You're being sarcastic, aren't you? I can't tell from your handwriting."

[Never let it be said that I love humans for their keen intellects. Of course I'm being sarcastic. Any _more_ rules you want to make?]

"No. I think that's enough."

[Good.] He was slightly irritated with Picard for putting so _many_ restrictions on the game, so he immediately gave Picard the sensation of a tongue licking his balls and then moving in spirals up his cock, getting Picard from half-mast to complete rigidity within moments. He ended it with sucking the head of the cock, noncorporeally, and then as his minute was up making the sensation vanish. Picard had grabbed onto his desk to steady himself, and he was breathing hard. _Hide that from Riker, mon capitaine._ [Let the games begin,] he wrote, and then blanked the screen.

Picard took a moment to breathe deeply, pull down his uniform again, and then strode out of his Ready Room as if nothing were amiss. "Status, Number One?"

"A whole lot of boring, sir," Riker said. "Though I guess that's better than some excitement, considering what we're looking for."

"Agreed." He sat down in his chair, toggled the chronometer on the arm, and dictated a very short Captain's Log that boiled down to a much more polite and militarily precise way of saying "we are bored off our asses here". And then he left the chronometer running.

As soon as the ten minutes were up, Q gave him a minute of having his toes sucked. His foot twitched, but he didn't visibly react otherwise. And then Q waited exactly ten minutes and then gave him a minute of kisses from his neck down his back, around his side to his belly and stopping just short of his groin. Picard crossed his legs and tried to do paperwork. And then Q waited exactly ten minutes and gave him kisses up his legs via the backs of his knees, across his thighs, one leg and then the other, again stopping short of his groin. As the minutes ticked off, counting ten more, Picard's muscles went tense, bracing himself for Q's next trick.

So Q did nothing.

Ten more minutes. Nothing. Ten after that. Nothing. The anticipation and uncertainty was making Picard even more tense and jumpy than before. "I'm sorry to leave you such a boring task, Number One, but since we're out here with nothing else to do, I thought I'd go catch up on some of my reports to Starfleet."

"Go right ahead, sir."

Picard went back to his Ready Room. Q still did nothing. He ordered tea and drank it. Still nothing. He started composing a report, and at the moment that Q could see his nervous system standing down from alert and shifting into a concentration mode, his muscles finally relaxing... then Q gave him the sensation of his ass being licked.

Picard jumped hard enough to hit his leg on the desk and make the tea wobble. "Dammit, Q!" he hissed.

Q laughed to himself, but resisted the temptation to communicate that fact to Picard. He waited another thirteen minutes and twenty-three seconds before sucking on Picard's neck in a way that would definitely have left marks if he'd really been there. The timing wasn't arbitrary; in fact Q had timed it that way very deliberately, because just before his minute was up, Riker rang the doorbell.

"Come!" Picard said, slightly breathless. _Oh, I bet you just wish you could right now, Jean-Luc_, Q thought.

"Captain, we've picked up an anomaly on sensors. I thought you'd want to investigate."

"Most certainly, Mr. Riker. Thank you."

_Dammit, Riker is completely oblivious. But why does that surprise me?_ Q waited, decorously, while Picard and his merry men investigated the sensor anomaly and found the more-than-ten-year-old mostly vaporized remains of debris from a Cardassian ship destroyed in the Federation-Cardassian war. Thorough sensor scans showed no signs of life or energy and nothing worth salvaging or investigating, so they moved on, and twenty minutes after they'd done so Q slipped imaginary hands down the back of Picard's pants and squeezed his buttocks, fingering his ass just a little before sliding the hands around to stroke Picard's thighs. Picard shifted _very_ restlessly.

"Captain, are you sure you're all right?"

"It's a bit embarrassing, Number One. I think I've got a bit of gas. You have the bridge." Picard headed for the bathroom, where he spent five minutes trying to lose his erection enough to urinate.

The day went on like this, Q coming up with new and different ways to sensually torment Picard every ten minutes or so, sometimes longer quite at random so Picard couldn't learn when to expect it. Picard took lunch in his Ready Room and spent a minute not eating it as Q made him feel as if a lubed finger was playing with his ass. He stayed in his Ready Room, avoiding contact with his crew, doing paperwork in the minutes that Q left him alone, apparently trying his damndest to ignore his raging erection and doing far too good of a job of it. Q found things that various crew members had intended to eventually bring to Picard's attention and planted the impulse in their minds that now would be a good time, so Data, LaForge, Troi, and the vastly-less-craggy security chief who'd replaced Worf all paraded into his Ready Room over the course of the day, always arriving at the worst possible time. But Picard was actually getting better at hiding his reactions even as his actual level of sexual frustration was growing, and none of them thought of Picard and sex in the same sentence if they could help it so none of them caught on.

Finally Q was growing desperate. The shift was close to ending, only an hour and a half left to go, and Picard had shown almost superhuman restraint. Time to bring out the heavy guns. He hadn't wanted to involve Crusher in this at all, because he considered it imperative to keep Crusher and Picard separate in matters of sex... but she was the only one who saw Picard as a sexual being, who'd _seen_ him aroused, and being a doctor she wouldn't miss the signs. So he found something she wanted to bring to Picard's attention and brought it to the front of her mind – he'd never promised not to read Picard's crew, just him – and began his latest sensuous assault when Crusher was less than a minute away, giving Picard the feeling of his entire cock buried to the hilt in a sucking mouth, tongue swirling around the shaft. Picard made a very tiny moan and bucked his hips just a little bit, and then Crusher walked in.

Q saw her take in Picard's flushed face, his tense posture. "Jean-Luc? Are you all right?" she asked.

"Quite all right, Beverly," he said in an _impossibly_ calm voice given what Q had been doing to him three seconds ago. "I'm... I hate to say this but I've been just a little flatulent today. I've been trying to hide in here until it passes."

"Jean-Luc, you should have said something," Crusher said, smiling. "If you can't tell your _doctor_ about problems like this, who can you tell? I can give you something for that."

He waved her off before she could quite get out her medical tricorder. "Oh, there's no need, Beverly. I just need to use the bathroom. But it can wait until we've talked. What brings you up here?"

"I can wait until you come back from the bathroom," Crusher said.

"No, no. Ship's business first."

So Crusher took up five minutes of Picard's time, and Q was furious because she'd bought Picard's lame excuse completely _and_ couldn't be bothered to stick around long enough that Q could do something else and make Picard really react in front of her. She left as Picard went to the bathroom. Q flashed in, too infuriated _not_ to confront Picard directly. "How are you _doing_ that? I can read your nervous system even if I'm not reading your mind; how can you possibly have so much control that the woman who spent years pining after you doesn't even notice you're halfway to coming in your pants?"

Picard said nothing for a moment, and then smiled a small tight smile. "I'm on duty for the next seventy-five minutes, Q."

_Oh, shit_. He was material while Picard was on duty. He'd just forfeited. "I believe," Picard said, "the expression that applies here is, 'your arse is mine'?"

Q swallowed. "Very good, Picard. Very, very good. You actually got _me_ annoyed enough to lose control. I suppose you think you're special, that you, a lowly human, have more self control than a Q?"

"Did you, or did you not, promise that if you lost the game I could do with you as I wished?" Picard asked.

"I... did sort of agree to that, yes."

"Well, then, we are not going to have discussions of the relative merits of Qs versus humans. You are going to materialize in my room, on my bed, naked, and you will lie there, without using your powers or doing anything to physically gratify yourself, until I come to claim my prize," Picard said. "Which will be in about seventy-five minutes. Or somewhat longer, if I decide to have dinner first."

"You have everyone fooled, Picard. You're an evil, evil man."

"Are you going to do it, or are you going to admit to me that you can't bring yourself to pay up your forfeit?"

"I'll do it," Q sighed, and flashed out, to rematerialize in Picard's bedroom as he'd been ordered.

Picard would never know if he cheated on his forfeit, but he would know. And when he'd realized that he was genuinely in love with this human, he'd made a promise to himself that he would treat Picard as he would treat a Q... which meant no cheating on forfeits through outright rule-breaking, since a Q _would_ know if he'd broken the rules. Of course, he would, completely, cheat with a Q by finding a loophole, so he spent the next seventy-five minutes or so with his hands behind his head, reviewing his memories of sex with Picard in Technicolor detail to distract him from his nervousness as to what Picard would demand. This would backfire on him if what Picard wanted was something that involved Q not getting off, but he'd rather be sexually frustrated than anxious.

Picard actually showed up minutes after getting off duty, apparently having decided not to detour for dinner. "Hi, Jean-Luc," Q said insouciantly, rolling onto his side on the bed to face Picard, doing nothing to hide his erection. "I've been thinking about you."

"I can see that," Picard said. "You're really not particularly chastened by losing the game, are you?"

"Not especially. I mean, the whole fun and challenge of playing with you is that sometimes you actually win." Q shrugged. "I'm hoping my forfeit will be mildly entertaining, at least, but I can't very well be a sore loser or you won't want to play next time."

"And you haven't read my mind?" Picard asked in a stern, hard voice. "You haven't any idea what I plan for you?"

That didn't sound promising. Q shivered, and without using his powers he couldn't hide it from Picard. "No idea whatsoever. But I'm dying with anticipation here."

"Yes, I see that too." He walked over to the bed and lightly stroked Q's chest, down to a very brief brush against Q's erect cock. Q breathed hard. "You want to know what I want of you?"

"Get _on_ with it, Jean-Luc."

Picard looked down at him with a stern, forboding face... and then cracked a smile. "I want you," he said, "to use those noncorporeal talents of yours to suck me, the way you were doing before Beverly walked in. And while you are doing that, I want you to take this physical body of yours--" Another brief stroke on Q's hip. "--and use it to bend me over this bed and _fuck_ me." Q's eyes widened, and his cock twitched. "Oh, and you can use your powers to get my clothes off me," Picard said, almost laughing at Q's reaction.

Relief and desire and the recognition that Picard had gotten him again, making him visibly nervous before revealing a forfeit that Q was delighted to pay, made Q laugh out loud. "Oui, oui, monsieur le capitaine," he said, throwing a salute... and making Picard's clothing disappear at the same time. This was going to be good.


End file.
